


i call your name but it becomes the wind

by Muir_Wolf



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M, Sharing a Body, Teleportation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-22
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muir_Wolf/pseuds/Muir_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diverges from the end of 3.17 (Stowaway).  Olivia’s mind is strained by Bell’s presence, and her Cortexiphan abilities end up kicking in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i call your name but it becomes the wind

**Author's Note:**

> Fringe isn't mine, etc. Title from Tired Pony's "Pieces"
> 
> This is a help_Japan fic for thinkatory, who so generously donated, and then was ever so patient with me <333

“Peter—” she says. “Peter, I’m scared.”

Her eyes are wide, her fingers tangled in his shirt as if desperate to hold him in place, to hold _herself_ in place, her breath unsteady in her lungs.

“Walter!” he yells, leaning over her, his hands cupping her cheeks. She tries to smile up at him, but she can’t seem to focus, can’t seem to—

She blinks, frowns, and her face smoothes.

“Peter?” Bell asks.

Peter’s jaw tightens, but he lets him go.

 

 

“You can’t think you’re going to stay in her head,” Peter grits out. “She’s not asleep in there, she’s _scared_.”

“Peter,” Walter says, “William can help us understand Walternate’s doomsday device. If there’s a chance—”

“Walter, this is _Olivia_ we’re talking about!”

“And you’re my son, Peter,” Walter says. His voice is unsteady, and Astrid glances away from them, a pained expression crossing her face.

“You can’t do this,” Peter says, “It’s too dangerous. Anything could happen!”

Bell is frowning down at Olivia’s hands.

“There’s only one person who’s allowed to make that decision, Peter,” he says.

Walter’s eyes light up. “Of course, we should be able to draw her up to the surface for a few minutes!”

 

 

Olivia shakes her head, panic in her eyes—“No,” she says, “Peter, we need Bell, it’s all right, I’m all right—”

“Olivia,” Peter says, something like disappointment mixing with his refusal, “No, there’s no way you’re doing this. It’s too dangerous.”

The edges of Olivia’s lips twist up into a half-smile. “Little excitement never hurt anyone,” she says. She tries for a soft laugh, but it ends up more air than anything else. Peter’s hand tightens around hers.

“You aren’t going to do this for me,” he says. “I won’t let you.”

He can still picture her in the tank, trying to learn what she could from Agent Scott. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel her wet skin under his hands, feel his heart beating as he grabbed her. He knows what she’ll risk for the people she cares about, how she’ll throw herself into harm’s way if she thinks there’s a chance she can help, and he can’t let her do that again. Won’t let her.

“Peter,” Olivia says. She’s not angry at his words. If anything she sounds gentle, like she’s trying to calm a skittish animal—and he should be comforting _her_ , he should be there for _her._

He just wants her to be safe. Is that really so much to ask?

“It’s too dangerous,” he says, as if he has any chance of her changing her mind, as if he doesn’t already know it’s impossible.

“It’s not,” she says. “Just don’t let me got lost again, Peter,” she says, catching her bottom lip lightly between her teeth.

He holds her, wraps her in his arms.

 _You don’t always have to be so strong,_ he wants to say.

“I won’t,” he says. “I won’t.”

 

 

Bell smiles a little unevenly.

“Peter,” he says. “She’ll be all right.”

Peter drags a hand down his face. “No, I know,” he says. “It’s Olivia, of course she will.”

Bell’s eyes soften a little. Peter doesn’t understand how that works—how Olivia’s face can look so _different_ , her but not her.

“Come here,” Bell says, opening her arms up and then enclosing Peter in Olivia’s embrace. And he can smell Olivia’s shampoo and the familiar curves of her body, and it would be so easy to close his eyes and pretend it’s her, so easy to give in to the illusion for just a moment.

But he can’t.

And he won’t.

“She’s doing this for me,” Peter says, his forehead resting against her shoulder, his back curving him away, his hands resting lightly on her back.

“Peter,” Bell says. “Our Olivia is the unstoppable force and the immovable object wrapped up in one. She’s doing this because she knows it’s the right thing to do.”

Peter breathes in once, and twice, and then lets it go. He pulls back, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “She’s not one to change her mind when it’s been set,” he says lightly, and Bell laughs. The sound catches and pulls along Peter’s skin, and he lets it.

He thinks how he only just got her back, how he is condemned to a world of people who look like Olivia and yet aren’t.

 

 

The first time, Bell is looking out the window, hands clasped behind her back. Peter and Walter are on the other side of the lab, arguing in hushed voices, and then Bell is stumbling back and turning towards them, and Peter can see that it’s Olivia—

Olivia’s wide eyes, Olivia’s voice saying _“Peter!”_ —

And then she disappears before their eyes.

 

 

Bell calls from a payphone in Connecticut.

 

 

When Bell gets back, Astrid makes him tea.

Bell is uncharacteristically quiet while Walter trips over his words talking about teleportation and how it makes sense that Olivia was the one who could jump universes and—

Peter paces back and forth, unable to take his eyes off of Olivia’s body, forcing himself not to touch her, hug her, make sure she’s all right.

“Peter,” Bell says, and her voice is gravelly and low and Peter freezes in place.

Astrid’s hand settles lightly on Peter’s arm. “Peter,” she says, “We’re going to figure this out.”

 

 

The second time, Olivia calls out Peter’s name, but he’s not there.

Bell calls Walter from Olivia’s apartment.

Walter, dryly, says, “At least the cab fare was cheaper.”

Astrid makes Peter coffee and sits with until he talks.

 

 

The third time, Bell is talking to Peter when he freezes, and then it’s Olivia gasping out his name.

Peter grabs her arms, his hands tight around her skin as she stumbles back a step.

“Peter,” she says, “ _Peter_ —”

And Peter kisses her, lips pressing against hers, hand tangling in her hair as he kisses her urgently, kisses her until she sags against him in relief. And he can feel his pulse pounding in his ears, can feel the way the soft hairs along his arms are standing up, and he can feel the way she presses against him, as if he’s all that makes sense in the world.

“Olivia,” he says, when they finally pull apart for breath—

And she smiles up at him.

“Peter,” she says, “I knew you’d find me.”

 

 

This time, Olivia stays Olivia for almost an hour.

Peter stays pressed against her as Walter talks to her. He keeps their hands clasped together, unwilling to relinquish contact, unwilling to let her go.

“Peter,” Walter says, “I think the reason Olivia didn’t teleport this time was because you managed to focus her before her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.”

“Teleport?” Olivia asks, eyes widening a little.

“Instead of, ah, surfacing, the last few times, you’ve immediately teleported somewhere else. And Bell’s consciousness took over again when you arrived.”

“Seriously?” Olivia asks, looking a bit amused as well as surprised. “Teleporting?”

“Olivia,” Walter says, surprisingly stern, “We have no idea what affect this is having on your body. We can’t have you continue teleporting without studying the problem, but the strain of having William’s presence in your body appears to be having an effect on your cortexiphan abilities.”

“But I didn’t teleport this time,” she says, frowning.

“You almost did,” Peter says.

“Bell has to finish working with Walter on the machine,” Olivia says.

“So what, you just want to keep teleporting all around New England in the meantime? Because Olivia, as far as plans go, that’s pretty terrible.”

Olivia’s gaze skitters to the side, and it’s a moment until she can meet Peter’s eyes.

“You stopped me from teleporting this time,” she says.

“Don’t,” Peter says, “Don’t. We don’t even know if that’s why.”

She squeezes his hand, leans her forehead against his shoulder. “Peter,” she breathes. She looks up at him, her lips pressed together until she can still them. “I need you.”

 

 

Peter stays close to Bell’s side.

And when she comes back, wide-eyed and saying his name, he catches her.

 

 

“Tell her it was worth it,” Bell says. His lips twist a little, and Peter thinks he’d have liked to say goodbye to her.

But he can’t.

“Tell her I’m sorry,” Bell says, and Peter nods.

 

 

And when she turns to him, breathless, he holds her.

And when she wakes up in the middle of the night, his name on her lips, he curves his body around hers and holds her in place, keeps her there, watches her with heavy-lidded eyes, as if touch alone has ever been enough to reassure him that she’s safe.

“Olivia,” he breathes into her hair.

“It’s me,” she says. “It’s me. I’m here.”

 

 __

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 21 April 2011.


End file.
